


Pat in the Blue Mask

by Lisamc21



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst Free Zone, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, M/M, Masquerade Party, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisamc21/pseuds/Lisamc21
Summary: In this AU, David still lives in New York. As part of courting an artist for his gallery, he agrees to meet some stranger named Pat in a blue mask at a Halloween masquerade party. The night takes a turn David doesn't expect.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 52
Kudos: 149
Collections: Schitt's Creek Trick Or Treat





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCTrickOrTreat](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCTrickOrTreat) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> David agrees to an anonymous date at a Halloween party. He's told the person will be wearing (some sort of masked costume?). He ends up finding a person with that kind of mask and they hit it off and have fun. Turns out it's Patrick in the mask, but later - at the end of the night (or next day?), David gets a text from his anonymous date apologizing for standing him up. So it's a happy accident he meets PBrew.
> 
> \---
> 
> I have almost no NYC experience and relied mostly on some brief Googling, though I tried to keep it nondescript enough to keep it minimally distracting to those who do.

“This is stupid.” David slid the double-breasted jet black Valentino jacket over his arms.

“Stop being a big baby. Your voice is giving me a migraine.”

David shot his scowliest scowl in Stevie’s direction. “So nice.” She didn’t even pretend to flinch. Rude. “How did I let myself get talked into meeting some stranger for a date at a masquerade party? I’d much rather drink my weight in cabernet, wear my comfiest joggers, and watch a _Forensic Files_ marathon with you.” He flopped back on the couch and tossed his mask to the side.

Stevie untucked a foot from underneath her and kicked his knee. “Because you’ve been courting that artist for months and when she wants to set you up, you say ‘how hard should I suck?’”

“Not sure that’s how the phrase goes.”

“You say ‘top or bottom?’”

He squeezed his eyes closed and knocked his head back against the top of the couch. “I’m not trading my body for my gallery.” He’d given away for much less, but that train of thought led to dark places. Cracking one eye open, he looked over at her. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

She snorted. “Third wheel at a party with a bunch of Manhattan snobs while wearing some itchy thing on my face? Hard pass.”

“You’re making this sound so appealing. Thank you for your support.”

Without looking up from her phone, she shrugged. “Masquerade parties are stupid.”

“Tell me about it! I feel like I’m going to some off-Broadway _Labyrinth_ knock-off. A masquerade party for Halloween? Come on. That’s basically the least creative form of costume party there is.” 

“You don’t have the codpiece to pull off _Labyrinth._ ”

“Excuse you!” His codpiece was perfectly respectable and she knew it, unfortunately. Of the countless mistakes he’d made, sex with Stevie barely made the list. Their friendship now made it worth any brief awkwardness and occasional dick jokes.

But a masquerade party on Halloween? Incorrect. If he didn’t desperately need to sign Gabriela for his winter exhibit, he wouldn’t have deigned to give it a second thought. Getting her for his gallery would give him the prestige he’d need to make it on his own. 

After discovering his parents were buying his patrons and subsequently cutting himself off from their money in most ways, and, ugh, getting a roommate (though Stevie could be worse), he’d been able to scrape by with keeping the gallery. If things kept going well, he’d be able to buy out his dad’s stake in it next year. Turned out, he didn’t need his parents to procure his patrons. But if he wanted to take his gallery to the next level and get that security, he needed Gabriela. Galleries all over the city, hell, the world, had courted her for months. He knew he was on her shortlist and he needed to make it happen. Securing a Gabriela exhibit would land him in all the major publications and cement his position in his industry. It’s what he wanted. The high art NYC life as a gallerist. Invited to the best parties with the best drugs and the best sex and people clamoring for his opinions.

Right? That’s what he still wanted? 

“How are you going to find this guy?”

“All I’ve been told is he’ll have a blue mask and his name is Pat.”

“Pat,” Stevie said with a sour expression as she said the name several times, over-pronouncing the hard T.

“I know.” He wasn’t fond of the prospect either. 

“You’d better get going. Don’t want to be late for your date with Pat in the blue mask.”

“Mm. Yes. Can’t wait.” If things went south, he could sneak up to the roof of that building. It was one of his favorite Manhattan views. 

He stood from the couch and picked up his matte black Greek theater-inspired mask with swirls, winged creatures, and musical instruments. As close as he could get to his aesthetic without having something custom made. He didn’t have the time or money for that. “How do I look?” He ran his hands down his jacket.

“Like you’re going to charm the fuck outta this guy and sign that artist.”

He let out a breath. “Thanks, Stevie. If this guy’s a schmuck, I’ll be back with a bottle of cab.” 

“And if he’s not, I’ll make myself scarce.” She leered at him.

David snorted as he turned to leave the apartment. Not going to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Once David made his way to the penthouse party, he circled the room a couple of times to get the lay of the land and scope out the food options. It took way the hell too long to get into Manhattan, which put him too close to the time he was supposed to meet Pat. He intended to get there a half an hour early, at least, so he had plenty of time to grab some food and position himself at a vantage point to look for the guy. Now he was right on time, no food in his stomach, sober, and no blue mask in sight. 

Fuck it. On his third pass of the food display, he decided to quickly fill his stomach before he found Pat because there was no way in hell he’d stuff his face in front of a stranger on a date. He picked up a plate and filled it with tiny eats that had him yearning for his former posh lifestyle. The fancy cheeses alone haunted his dreams on the regular. He shoved a stuffed mushroom in his mouth as he continued to pick up foods. 

“Is it good?”

David stopped chewing and turned toward the voice. A broad shouldered, shorter man with a navy blue mask accented with silver swirls looked up at him. The man’s shoulders caught his attention, but his eyes kept it. Wide, round and the color of the hot chocolate he splurges on sometimes from his favorite coffee shop.

“I’m iffy on mushrooms. On a scale of one-to-ten, how dirt-like is the taste?” The earnest evenness in his expression charmed David.

David slowly chewed as he considered the question. He appreciated someone who took their finger foods seriously. “On your scale, is ten actual dirt?”

The man bit on his lower lip for a moment before grinning. Oh. He’s cute. “Yes. The kind of dirt you’d encounter in a damp Pacific Northwest forest.”

“Ew.” David picked up a second stuffed mushroom because he could. “To confirm my ranking.” He looked toward the ceiling as he molded his expression into something thoughtful. “I’d say a five-point-three.”

“That’s… startlingly specific.”

“I take food very seriously,” David said in an even tone, but his mouth twitched at the man’s laugh. “The herbs and spices in the cream cheese filling overpowers most of the dirt flavor, but it’s still mushroom-y.”

“Mushroom-y. Descriptive.”

“I never claimed to be a poet.”

“Not a poet, likes mushrooms, strong opinions on food.” His gaze quickly scanned David’s body and he _felt_ the man’s unsaid assessment of him. The way his tongue darted out to quickly wet his lips. The man used the tongs to pick up a mushroom and took a bite. David studied him. Waiting for an indication of how he liked it.

Uses tongs not fingers, funny, charming, willing to try foods he knows he might not like. Willing to try other things? Hmm.

“You’re right. Thank you for sharing your expertise with me.” 

You’re right? That’s it? “Well? You’ve got to give me more than that.”

The man shrugged as he swallowed. David’s attention zeroed in on the pale column of his neck. Very kissable. “I’d have gone for a six-point-two.”

“Oh? Are you questioning my assessment skills?”

He took a step toward David and leaned his hip against the eggshell tablecloth covering the ornately decorated table. Who really needed an ice sculpture of a Venetian mask? Hello, tacky much? 

“I think the point-nine difference can be attributed to bias. You seem to like mushrooms more than me, so it’s a logical conclusion.” He shrugged as though that settled it.

“Is it?” David tucked his smile into the corner of his mouth. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t seem like the usual Manhattan type at those kinds of posh parties. It wasn’t only the cheapness of his clothes, but the way he fondly teased David as though it came as easy as breathing. Usually, the people he met at those kinds of parties were snobby and aloof, finding not-so-subtle ways to brag about something, or bonding over putting others down. As he thought about it, he usually met sort of terrible people. Creative and brilliant, sure, but often terrible. But this guy? He seemed like he’d fit right in with Stevie and David at their favorite dive bar.

“The important question is, how do you feel about oysters?” The man jerked his thumb toward a platter to his left.

“Vile.” David managed not to gag.

“Agreed.” His smile grew, like David had just admitted to being a billionaire. 

David liked this guy. He wanted to spend the evening with him, not whatever schmuck Gabriela set him up with. As the guy added some cheese to his plate, David took the opportunity to study him more closely. Gray slacks and a light blue shirt under a navy blazer. The blue in his mask clashed with the rest of the outfit, but David found it charming.

Woah. Woah. Wait. Blue mask. He turned to scan the room again and was met with a sea of black, red, gold, silver, but no blue. “Um, weird question, but is your name Pat by any chance?”

His head snapped in David’s direction. “Patrick. How did you—“

“I’m David,” he said on a relieved sigh as he stepped closer. “It’s nice to meet you.” Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total bust after all. 

Patrick held out a hand as his mouth turned down into something that still managed to look like a smile? “Nice to meet you as well.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

Patrick (thank God it wasn’t just _Pat_ because that made him think of his creepy middle school tutor) glanced down at his feet as his cheeks reddened. “Sure.” Fucking adorable. Patrick turned to walk with David. Oh. He figured he’d run off and bring them both drinks like his dates usually expected, but it was nice Patrick wanted to stick together. They settled at the back of the short line.

“So, what are your thoughts on masquerade parties?”

“Aside from feeling terrified I’m wrapped up in some real-life version of _Eyes Wide Shut_? Not good, David. Not good at all.”

David stared down at him for a beat, then tilted his head back and laughed. The kind of loud and abrupt laugh that had no place in a Manhattan penthouse masquerade party filled with art society people. “That… that was unexpected.”

“Glad I can keep you guessing,” Patrick said as he grinned up at him.

Who the hell was this guy, and where had Gabriela been hiding him?

“What can I get you gentlemen?” A handsome bartender asked. Close-trimmed beard and aqua eyes. The kind of guy David probably would have hit on if he hadn’t met Patrick.

“Vodka soda, please,” David said, then looked at Patrick.

“Whisky, neat. Thank you.”

David pulled a few bills his pocket to tip. He knew no-host bars didn’t lead to many tips. Now that he had to pay attention to the ebb and flow of money in his bank account, he realized how careless he’d been for years. And definitely guilty of all too often not tipping enough himself. 

As they collected their drinks, David moved away from the bar and expected Patrick to make his polite excuses to move onto more interesting company. Just because Gabriela had set them up didn’t necessarily mean they _had_ to spend the evening together. But he didn’t. He stayed at David’s elbow. 

“So, David.” His mouth was relaxed but those eyes looked playful. How could eyes look so openly playful?

He took a sip of his drink. “Mm?”

“What are your thoughts on masquerade parties? Do you scope the society pages for your chance to flaunt your fancy mask?”

David’s fingertips trailed his mask. He wouldn’t have considered his fancy compared to half the ones in the room, but compared to Patrick’s, he supposed it was. “You found me out. I have a kink for wearing masks in parties with mediocre food and too many people for the square footage.” As if proving his point, a woman bumped into him as she passed and didn’t even throw an apology glance over her shoulder. 

“There are worse kinks.” Part of Patrick’s left eyebrow disappeared above his mask as he took a sip from his whisky.

“So true. I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum, but I never could get into feet kinks.”

“Is this a bad time to ask for a photo of yours?” Patrick asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Yup. He definitely liked this guy. “Probably should’ve waited until I’ve had a couple more drinks. Too late. I’m onto your tricks now.”


	3. Chapter 3

Two drinks in, David found himself having a pretty damn good time with Patrick. He’d have to genuinely thank Gabriela, assuming the evening didn’t take a sharp left turn.

They found space near the doors to the crowded balcony. He’d love to get outside and enjoy the clear, October air, but doing so like a sardine in a tin wasn’t as appealing. He loved fall in the city. If a couple of people came back inside, maybe they’d risk the cramped ambiance for the fresh air.

“Do you enjoy owning a gallery?” Patrick’s eyes were open, friendly as he asked. They’d covered a potpourri of topics since they’d began talking. They volleyed from conversation thread to thread with ease. 

David took a sip from his drink as he bought himself a few seconds. Normally, he’d respond with something like, “yes, it’s my dream job. I love working with brilliant contemporary artists.” But the compulsion to say the right thing never came. So, he’d go with honesty? “I love art and I’m glad my job lets me be close to it every day.”

Patrick’s mouth turned down into a smile. “But?”

David let out a sharp laugh. “But, many of the artists I work with are pretentious assholes, and I have to tap into the pretentious side of my own personality all too often in my line of work.” Which is why his friendship with Stevie was so important. She helped ground him like a rope around the waist stopping him from getting sucked into a pretentious whirlpool.

“That sounds exhausting.” 

David leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You know? It really is.” They smiled at each other, and he wished he could take Patrick’s mask off. He wanted to see his entire face. See if the corners of his eyes crinkled with those wide smiles and if his eyes really were as big as they seemed.

Shit. He froze as he remembered why he was there to begin with. “I mean, not all of them are pretentious assholes. Some are really lovely people. You know, rotten apples in every bunch.” What if Patrick ran back to Gabriela to rant about how David talked epic levels of shit about artists?

“How, um, how do you know Gabriela?” Smooth segue. Ugh. 

Patrick blinked up at him. “Gabriela?”

“David Rose. This is a pleasant surprise.”

All the happy looseness in David’s body from the alcohol and Patrick’s charm ran screaming at that voice. Worse than nails on a chalkboard. Jaw clenched, David turned toward him. “Sebastien.”

“How good to see you back in Manhattan social life. I thought you swore off the good life when you lost your money?”

David glanced at Patrick, but couldn’t discern his reaction. “You know very well I didn’t ‘lose my money.’ As I explained to you repeatedly when we broke up, I’m making my own way now instead of living off my parent’s money.” He shot Sebastien a pointed look because Seb still lived on daddy’s dime. 

“I’m surprised you lasted this long. I’d have expected you crawling back to the purse strings by now. Or has your gallery closed?”

“My gallery is doing fine, thanks,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“Relax. Looking so tense will give you _more_ wrinkles.” The side of Sebastien’s mouth turned up. He knew the exact buttons to push, for better or worse. Actually, always worse. Definitely always worse.

“David, I believe I still owe you that drink.” Patrick stepped forward and pressed his open palm at the small of David’s back. The contact snapped him out of his focus on glaring at Sebastien. 

“Right, let's do that,” David said, smiling at him. A real smile. The one Sebastien used to say ruined the tragedy of his aura. Fucking gross. “Shall we?” He tipped back the rest of his drink and winked at Sebastien before walking around him. 

He didn’t say a word or even dare to look at Patrick while he moved through the crowd toward the bar. Hell, he wasn’t even positive Patrick had followed. Given that embarrassing back and forth, he wouldn’t blame Patrick for taking the opportunity to disappear into the crowd. Stopping at the end of the line, unfortunately longer than last time, he released a breath when he spotted a familiar blue and silver mask out of the corner of his eye. He took a moment to collect himself before turning to Patrick. “Sorry about that.”

Patrick shrugged. “Not your responsibility to apologize for other people being assholes.”

David stared ahead as he giddily tugged his lips between his teeth. Not the reaction he’d expected, but hot damn he’d take it.

“Did you see his mask? The Devil horns were a bit on the nose, no?”

David’s head dropped between his shoulders as he laughed. “Subtlety isn’t one of his strengths.”

“Does he have any?”

Was Gabriela some sort of witch who knew the exact kind of person David needed in that moment? Of course someone as down-to-Earth as Patrick seemed wouldn’t fall for Sebastien’s aloof yet cruel bullshit. “You know, he doesn’t. I’m glad to see that now.” Patrick smiled at him softly and nodded once. 

They were next up to get drinks. David was happy to see it was the same bartender he’d been tipping well all night. “I’ve got an idea.” He wanted to ask Patrick if he trusted him, but how could he after only an hour or two? So he waggled his eyebrows.

“I like ideas.” 

Good. 

When it was their turn, the bartender smiled at him. “Welcome back.” Hopefully the good tips would pay off.

David pulled a fifty from his wallet and dropped it in the tip jar. “Any chance I could take a bottle of champagne off your hands?” 

“Of course, sir.” The bartender’s eyes darted toward Patrick, and David nodded. The bartender picked up two glasses and handed it all to David. 

After thanking the bartender, David turned to whisper in Patrick’s ear. “Follow me.” Where he’d gotten that sense of adventure or the nerve to blow so much of his precious, hard-earned money in one night, he wasn’t sure. Okay. Bullshit. Patrick. That’s where.

David had been to that penthouse enough to remember how to access the private roof entrance. Going up there with Patrick would surely be more enjoyable than the time he got groped by the creepy heir to a major media corporation at a gallery opening after party. 

He tested the door to the bedroom and let out a sigh of relief when it opened. “It’s this way.” 

“Oh.” 

David froze and looked back at Patrick. Shit. The guy probably thought he was trying to get him naked. Not that he’d object to that turn of events because David _definitely_ wanted that, but more than that he wanted to keep talking to him. Which was weird as fuck? Because when did David want to get to know someone over having their bodies do the talking. Patrick licked his lips as he studied the bed. _Oh._ Okay. Yeah. Okay. Later. Maybe later.

“Can you grab those throw blankets? It’s a bit chilly where we’re going.”

Patrick’s head whipped toward David. “Yup. Sure. I can do that.”

David turned and grinned as he walked toward the side door with the private roof access. He opened the door and pressed it back behind him for Patrick to follow with the blankets in his arms. Once he reached the top of the short stairwell, he pulled the outdoor key ring off the doorknob and slipped it over his wrist. As he opened the door, the chilly autumn air stung his cheeks. A welcome sensation to cool the alcohol-produced heat coursing through his veins.

“Wow.” Patrick stepped forward and moved in a slow circle as he took in the view. 

“There’s nothing like a rooftop view in Manhattan.”

“I can see that. This is incredible.” 

David joined Patrick at the roof’s railing and tried to look at the landscape through fresh eyes. Buildings at nearly ever height imaginable crammed together with lights dotting each one like freckles. He wished it wasn’t hours past sunset so Patrick could have seen that. But, for all he knew, Patrick had his own penthouse. Gabriela ran with a wealthy crowd, but the way Patrick studied the view with wonder made it pretty clear he wasn’t used to it.

“Want some champagne?”

Patrick turned his head and smiled at David. “Please.”

David tucked his smile into the corner of his mouth as he turned and walked over to two lounge chairs with a table between them. He sat the glasses down as he opened the bottle. Patrick made a “whee!” sound when the cork popped. David shouldn’t have felt so charmed, but dammit, he was only human. As he poured the two glasses, Patrick placed a blanket on each chair.

“Happy Halloween.” David handed Patrick a glass and held his out for a cheers. 

“Happy Halloween,” Patrick said as he clinked his glass against David’s. 

David sat and spread the blanket over his lap. Grateful for the dim lights that had turned on when they’d entered the rooftop, he enjoyed Patrick’s face some more. Would it be weird to ask him to remove the mask?

“Mind if I take off my mask? It’s starting to feel irritating.”

David blinked at Patrick. His tone was hesitant, like he was asking if it was okay to remove his pants and whip out his dick. “Of course.” 

As Patrick reached up to untie his mask, David figured he should do the same. It would be weird to keep his on if Patrick wasn’t wearing his own, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for his full face to be on display. Not that the mask hid much, but if offered some emotional anonymity. He looked down at his lap as his fingers fumbled with the ribbon. Tugging the bow free, he pulled the mask away and instinctively ran a finger over his eyebrows to ensure they weren’t standing straight up like his dad’s. At least the mask hadn’t messed up his hair. 

Inhaling through his nose, he gathered the nerve to look at Patrick. How the hell was removing masks that covered a third of their faces such an intimate act? “Hi,” he said breathily.

“Wow.” Patrick blinked owlishly at him. “Hi.” 

David bit his bottom lip as Patrick stared. And stared. He didn’t mind because Patrick’s nonverbals showed a _lot_ of interest. Widening pupils, widening mouth, unconscious smile, shifting his body closer. Probably all the same things David’s own face was doing as he looked at Patrick. His eyes were even larger than David had expected. He was handsome and boyish and he wanted to see how his smile affected his eyes.

“You’re David Rose,” Patrick said on an exhale. 

“Um, yeah?” Didn’t Patrick know that? Surely Gabriela would have warned the poor man who he was.

Patrick looked down at the ground and shook his head as he smiled. How David wished he could read his mind. He looked awed? Pleasantly surprised? Usually it was David’s black AmEx or drugs that elicited such reactions. 

David took a big gulp of his champagne to fight the nerves tickling at his spine. 

Patrick looked up at the movement. “It’s just, I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “I used to work at Rose Video. In high school.”

David’s mouth fell open. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, that, well, that wasn’t it. “You know me because you used to work for my dad’s company?” His brows furrowed. David couldn’t tell for certain in the low light, but it sure seemed like Patrick was blushing. 

Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. God, he’s adorable. “We used to get photos of the Rose family. Newsletters, holiday cards, stuff like that.”

Staring at the looming buildings in the distance, David chased a thought. “Wait, you recognize me from the occasional family photo you got, what, ten or so years ago?”

“Thirteen,” Patrick said as his voice cracked. 

David pressed his lips together to stop the wide smile from taking over his face. “Thirteen. Huh. They must have been memorable photos.” Yup. Definitely blushing.

“Hard to forget that asymmetrical haircut, David.”

David lightly thwacked Patrick’s shoulder. Was it too soon to be smitten? Because he kinda felt smitten. “Which one did you work at?”

“Elmdale. A fairly small town a few hours outside of Toronto.”

“Canadian boy, eh?”

“Takes one to know one.” Patrick raised his eyebrow. This guy knew exactly how to meet David barb for barb, and he loved it.

“How’d you end up in New York?” David leaned back in the chair and tucked the blanket tightly under his thighs.

Patrick’s turn to take a big drink. “I needed a change so I came here a couple of months ago. My college roommate works on Wall Street and he got me a job.”

David pretended to stand up. “I gotta go. I don’t drink champagne on rooftops with Wall Street guys. I need _some _standards.”__

__Patrick’s hand shot up and gripped David’s shoulder. “Good thing I don’t work on Wall Street then, huh?”_ _

__Settling back into his chair, he angled toward Patrick. “Good thing indeed. Where do you work?” As he listened to Patrick talk about his job as a business manager for a local chain of markets, he realized Patrick hadn’t taken the easy shot. When David had quipped about standards, he’d practically left a tunnel-sized opening for Patrick to tease about standards that allowed for Sebastien. He smiled to himself. Patrick liked to tease, but in a fond way, and David liked it._ _

__“Are you enjoying New York?”_ _

__Patrick looked into David’s eyes. “I’m starting to.” Had someone turned on a heater? Because _damn_. _ _

__“Well. That’s good.”_ _


	4. Chapter 4

“But if you don’t like being a business manager for someone else, why not start your own business?” David tugged the blanket further up his shoulders. They’d finished the champagne long ago and the warmth is sparked in David’s body had begun to wane. 

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”

David hated to see the defeat in Patrick’s shoulders. So far, Patrick had exuded confidence and humor and kindness. He’d shared stories of his wholesome childhood, dreams to travel the world (and, okay, David _maybe_ started loosely fantasizing about them taking a trip to Japan), and where his career had gone off track. David understood that all too well. 

“Is it an issue of means? Or confidence? Or?” Normally, David wouldn’t have the guts to ask something so directly about something that serious, but he and Patrick had developed an openness throughout the evening. He’d shared more of his true self with Patrick in one night than he’d shared with Stevie in their first few months of friendship, and he’d opened up to Stevie more than anyone before her. 

Patrick dropped his cheek against the back of the chair. “I guess I don’t have a solid idea. If I did, I think I’d feel good about pursuing it, but nothing worth leaving my job over. Yet.”

David laughed. “I have the opposite problem. I have never-ending ideas, but not enough business savvy to pull them off.”

“I don’t know about that, David. From what I picked up on earlier, you stopped accepting your family’s money and are running your gallery on your own. It can’t be easy to keep an art gallery profitable in Manhattan.”

David blinked away the sting of tears. “It’s not,” he whispered. Stevie had given him the same pep talk a dozen times and he’d started to maybe, almost believe her. 

“If we could combine our powers, we’d be unstoppable.” Patrick looked out toward the view and smiled softly.

David studied him. “Yeah, we would.” They barely knew each other, and it was a throwaway comment, but the prospect of working side-by-side with Patrick compelled him. His steady energy, teasing comments, cheerful support. David could use that kind of influence in his life. 

They sat quietly for a bit. Eventually, David stopped studying Patrick’s profile and turned his attention toward the city that had captured his heart years ago. A placed he loved and hated in almost equal parts. A chill wracked his body, and he tugged the thin blanket tighter.

“It’s getting pretty cold,” Patrick said.

David turned his head to look at him. “Yeah.” He smiled sadly. He wasn’t ready for the night to end.

“I’ve got an idea.” Patrick’s eyes twinkled in the low rooftop light.

“I like ideas.”

“Come on then.” Patrick stood and folded his blanket, draping it over his arm, and grabbed the empty bottle and glasses. 

David folded his blanket, picked up their masks, and pulled the key off his wrist. He unlocked the door to head back into the penthouse and hoped to hell Patrick couldn’t hear his heart beating. He held it open for Patrick to go first and lead them toward his idea. 

“Oh! Excuse us.” Patrick looked back at David with wide eyes.

David walked through the door into the bedroom. Two people looked over at them from under the covers in the bed. “Sorry. Just returning these blankets.” David sat it on top of where Patrick had dropped his. He crowded Patrick’s back as Patrick fiddled with the lock on the bedroom door.

“Might want to, um, re-lock this?” David closed the door behind him.

Patrick stopped halfway down the hallway and leaned back against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling and laughed. 

“Oh my God.” David bent over at the waist. “Their faces.”

“I hope we didn’t kill the mood,” Patrick said through his laughs. 

David grinned at Patrick and absorbed the energy crackling between them. “I hope so too.”

Patrick licked his lips. “Shall we?” He jerked his thumb down the hallway.

“Mm.” He followed Patrick back to the party, which had begun to dwindle in its numbers. He had no idea how long he’d been at the party or how long he’d been upstairs with Patrick. Checking his phone would mean letting the real world in, and he wasn’t ready to pop their bubble yet.

Patrick deftly placed the glasses and empty bottle on a table with other dirty glasses as he continued toward the penthouse entrance. They caught the elevator and shot brief smiles at each other on the ride down as they hugged the back away from the older couple who had joined them. 

“Where are we going?” David asked as they exited the building. 

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“Okay,” he whispered, as he walked in step with Patrick.

They talked about what they loved best about New York while they walked. Patrick had barely managed to explore the city yet with how much he worked. That’s too bad. He’d love to show Patrick his favorite spots.

After walking about a dozen blocks away from the Upper East Side penthouse, and nearly getting knocked over by some drunks in costumes that looked far too minimal for the cold weather, Patrick turned onto a quiet street. “Hungry?” He stopped in front of a bustling twenty-four hour diner.

“Always,” he grinned.  
Patrick grinned back as he held the door open for David. 

They waited a few minutes next to a crowd of people in _Clue_ -themed costumes. Once seated, they both ordered tea. David wanted to remember everything about the night in case it was the only time he got with Patrick so he passed on the booze. 

“I like your ideas,” David said as he studied the menu. Too many delicious options to choose from.

“I like yours, too. Champagne and greasy food.”

“And great company.” David kept his eyes down as he smiled.

“Definitely that.”

“Here you go.” Their waitress sat their teas down. “Know what you’d like?”

Patrick gestured for David to go first. 

“I’d like the Belgian waffle with strawberries and extra whipped cream and a side of crispy bacon. Thanks.” He handed her his menu.

“I’ll take the Reuben, and can we get an order of mozzarella sticks to start? Thank you.”

David’s eyes widened. Yum. 

“Sure thing.”

“Mozzarella sticks? Great choice.”

Patrick’s cheeks reddened. “I couldn’t help but notice the food on your plate earlier heavily skewed toward the cheese level of the food pyramid.”

“You’re quite observant.”

Patrick shrugged as he dunked his teabag. “I am when I’m interested.”

Butterflies flapped wings in David’s stomach. “Got a thing for cheese, do you?”

“It’s a torrid love affair. Havarti stole my heart years ago.”

“A one cheese man.”

Patrick blew air over his steaming mug, making the perfect O. David could get lost in that mouth. He wanted to feel it against his own, against other parts of his body, around his— “I like to focus my attention.” 

David shifted on the vinyl bench. “Focus is good.” Hell, he sounded breathy. He flipped through the tea bags in the small basket and selected peppermint. 

“What part of the city do you live in?”

“Brooklyn. Bushwick.” He waited for the judgment, but it never came. Patrick smiled at him and his large eyes said, _neat_. “I used to live in Manhattan, but ended up moving in with a friend in Brooklyn after I went out on my own.” It was nice to be able to talk about that with someone and not feel like he was drowning in shame. “What about you?”

“I’m still crashing with my college roommate. He lives in Tribeca.” 

“Do you think you’ll stay there or move to another part of the city?”

Patrick picked at the corner of his napkin. “I’m not sure. I’d been toying with the idea of moving home, actually.” He glanced up at David and looked hesitant. 

They’d only known each other for hours. Why did the thought of Patrick moving back to Canada leave David feeling wrung out and hollow like a carved pumpkin? “Not sure city life is for you?”

“Something like that,” Patrick offered a small smile.

“Well, my roommate has been trying to talk me into moving to her small town. She’s from Canada too.”

“Oh?” Patrick perked up. 

Stevie had grown as weary of NYC as David had. Understandable with how many drunken assholes she dealt with as a bartender. When he’d asked why the drunken assholes of New York were worse than those in her home town, she’d simply said because NYC assholes acted entitled. He couldn’t argue with that.

“She’s from a small town and her aunt isn’t doing well. She owns a little motel and has been trying to get Stevie to come home and take it over.”

“What would you do? Is the town big enough to open a gallery?”

David shrugged. “That’s why I haven’t done it yet. I’ve been working so hard to make my gallery profitable and sustainable. What would I do if I closed it?”

“You said you have a lot of ideas. Would any of those work in a small town?”

He considered that question as he scooped a couple of ice cubes from his water into his scalding tea. “One idea I keep coming back to is a store carrying artisanal and local handmade goods. Selling them on consignment under my brand, but I’m not sure if a small town could sustain it year-round. I thought about trying to sell online, but that wouldn’t create the kind of experience I have in mind.” He looked up at Patrick and found him studying him intently. “What?”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

David frowned. “What do you mean?”

Patrick shook his head and laughed lightly. “When you said you’re an idea guy without business savvy, I was sort of expecting you to say you wanted to sell bikinis in the Arctic or something. Your idea sounds great, David. The consignment idea is really intriguing.”

David watched Patrick stare off into the middle distance, like he’s working out what the business would look like. 

“Here you go.” The waitress sat down a platter of mozzarella sticks. “Can I get you anything else for now?”

“No, thank you.” David pulled his napkin onto his lap. He couldn’t risk any grease dripping on his suit.

Patrick held a mozzarella stick out. “To great ideas.”

David’s smile came easy. A growing Pattern in Patrick’s presence. “To great ideas.” He moaned at the bite. Just shy of too hot, but the perfect crunch on the outside and nice and gooey on the inside. “Delicious.” He chewed carefully so he didn’t choke on the cheese. He’d been burned before by mozzarella sticks, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Patrick.

“Where is your roommate from?”

David bared his teeth and squinted his eyes. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

“Try me.” Patrick took another bite.

David let out a sigh. “Schitt’s Creek.”

Patrick’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates as he choked. Coughing, he reached for his water. 

“Are you okay? Do you need me to do the Heimlich?” God, he hoped not because he didn’t actually know how.

Patrick waved him off as he gulped down his water.

“Wrong pipe?”

He shook his head, and David waited until Patrick could speak.

“Your roommate is from Schitt’s Creek? That’s the town she’s trying to get you to move to?” Patrick’s voice was hoarse, but he looked almost frantic and excited? Really excited? He damn near bounced on his bench. David nodded, then watched as Patrick pulled out his phone. After tapping, he handed it to David. 

“What am I looking at?” He noticed a short line between two towns.

“Elmdale is my hometown.”

David read the town name next to one dot. “Oh. Oh!” His face snapped up. “You live by Schitt’s Creek?”

Patrick grinned. “Technically, I live in Tribeca. But I’m _considering_ living in Elmdale.”

And all of a sudden the idea of following Stevie to rural Ontario didn’t sound as terrible, which was fucking ridiculous given he’d know Patrick for five hours. But he felt like he knew Patrick better than people he’d known for five years, and he’d certainly let Patrick in more than most people David had known for five years. 

“I think your business idea could work there, David. There are so many people who make amazing things. Hand woven blankets from alpaca wool, fancy cheese, nice wine, art, lotions and things with local ingredients. Nice quality stuff. Not the kitschy crocheted toques in Blue Jay’s colors at fairs, but things you might see in a store here.”

David chewed up another mozzarella stick as he listened to Patrick. The idea for his business took a more solid shape in his mind with the specificity of the types of products in the area.

“Sometimes in the summer, my parents like to follow wine and cheese trails through the region, but those are seasonal due to the weather. If those businesses had the chance to get their goods in a single, permanent location? Surely they’d jump at the chance for a more steady income.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping. I love going to farmer’s markets in the summer, but I miss them in the colder months. I want something like that year-round, but with a more refined aesthetic.”

Patrick leaned back against the booth divider. “You’ve got something worth exploring.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “There are grants and things you could get. I wrote a lot of grant applications for the company I worked for after college. I could help, if you’d like.”

“You would?” David’s heart pounded. He tried to picture life in a middle of nowhere town he’d never visited. Away from everything he knew. Away from the intensity of Manhattan and the pretentiousness of the art world. Starting something from scratch on his own without having to deal with a never-ending stream of fake people or guilt over accepting his parent’s money. 

“Absolutely.” He looked down at his hands for a moment. “Whether or not I move back or you move there, I’d like to help you make this happen. If you’d like.”

An elaborate bouquet. Maybe something flown in from Hawaii? That’s what he needed to send Gabriela for throwing Patrick in his path. The most earnest and kind person he’d ever met. He’d fine-tuned his bullshit meter over three-plus decades as a Rose, and Patrick didn’t even register on the low end of the meter.


	5. Chapter 5

“That waffle hit the spot. This was a great idea.”

Patrick pushed his plate with some remaining fries toward the middle of the table. “I’m glad. I’ve come here several times. Sometimes my roommate throws parties with his Wall Street friends, and when I’m not feeling it, I head here with a book.”

David was already completely charmed by this man, but the image of him ducking out of a brotastic party to read in an all-night diner is fucking adorable. “I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. I know most of the best waffle and pancake places in the city.”

“Guess you don’t know as much as you think you do.” Patrick smirked.

“What’s the pancake and waffle situation in the Elmdale and Schitt’s Creek area?” During their meal, he’d asked a few questions about Patrick and Stevie’s hometowns. Stevie hadn’t painted a very positive picture of the place, which hadn’t exactly helped convince him to consider the move. She’d made it sound like something to endure together, but Patrick managed to express the perks of the place while not glossing over the drawbacks. He appreciated the full picture.

“I can’t imagine it’s very good in Schitt’s Creek, but there are a couple of cute cafes in Elmdale. There’s a few small towns in the region and lots of nice little restaurants. I’m sure you’d find plenty of good ones. And just imagine not having to wait in a huge line and paying half the price.”

“You’re selling me on it.”

“Good.” Patrick grinned and bit his lower lip.

Patrick insisted on buying their meal and they stood on the sidewalk in front of the diner.

David didn’t want the night to end yet, but he was running out of excuses to extend their time. “I’ve had a really great time with you tonight.” He tugged his smile to one side as he tilted his head and looked at Patrick from under his lashes. He felt almost bashful.

“Me too, David. Best night so far in New York.”

“That’s a very nice thing to say.”

“Honestly? Best night in a very long time.”

“For me too.” David tried to read Patrick’s face. He looked as reluctant to part ways as David felt. He’d love to spend the night talking. Maybe cuddling. He didn’t want to rush into bed and risk fucking up whatever they’d started and that restraint terrified him. But honesty had worked so far in the night. Why stop now?

“I don’t want to say goodnight to you yet.”

Patrick let out a breath and his shoulders dropped. “Me neither.”

“Want to come back to my place? If you don’t mind heading into Brooklyn. I’d like to keep talking.”

“Yeah. Let’s go to yours.” Patrick held out his hand, and David happily intertwined the fingers of his left hand with Patrick’s as his right clutched their masks. He supposed he could have left them behind, but he felt sort of sentimental about them already.

About forty minutes later, they walked up the three flights of stairs to his and Stevie’s flat. “I apologize in advance for anything snarky Stevie says to you.”

“I’ve handled your snark just fine all night. I think I’ll be okay.”

David froze with his key in the door and he slowly turned to face Patrick. “You’re right.” He was so damn happy. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“The prodigal son returns. How shitty was the par—“ Stevie cut herself off as her attention shifted to Patrick.

“Good evening, Stevie.” He gave her a harsh look that told her to be on her best behavior as he moved to the side to let Patrick in.

“Well, _good evening_ , David. Who do we have here?” She pulled her legs up on the couch and folded them, clasping her hands on her lap.

Patrick stepped into their small living room as David closed and locked the door behind them. “Hi Stevie, I’m Patrick from Elmdale.”

Her eyes grew huge. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” Patrick turned and winked at David. “I hear you’ve been trying to get David to move to Schitt’s Creek.”

She gestured for Patrick to sit next to her. “I have. My aunt wants me to take over the motel there. I was thinking I could hire David as my cleaner.”

David stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve told you thrice I will not work for you.”

“He’d look great in those yellow gloves up to his elbows,” Patrick said, then smirked up at David.

“Really loving this imbalanced social dynamic,” he said as he jerked a finger between the two of them. He glared at Stevie, but honestly loved seeing them get along so well right off the bat.

“He really would. Honeybee yellow would look great with his complexion.”

“Mm, yes.”

“Would anyone like a drink?” He asked in a shrill tone. David might as well make himself useful while he stood.

“Beer. You a beer guy, Patrick?” Stevie raised an eyebrow.

“I sure am. I’d love a beer. Thanks, David.” He smiled up at him.

“Sure.” He took a moment in the kitchen to smile to himself. His best friend and his crush (?) or new friend (?) or something maybe (?) were probably already planning their move to Canada. And he fucking loved that prospect. Loved the idea of getting to know Patrick to see if there was something there. He wanted there to be. Definitely wanted to explore the possibilities. Worst case, he had a new friend. Best case, he had a lot more.

He carried three beers back into the living room and dropped on the couch between Stevie and Patrick.

“What are we watching?” He couldn’t tell by the commercials what channel she was on.

“House Hunters International marathon.”

“Perfect.” He settled in.

“I love this show.”

David and Stevie both turned toward Patrick. “You do?” That was his and Stevie’s favorite show to watch together.

“How can I not? Two people who are terrible at compromise and decision-making trying to buy a house in another country and acting like the paint job is a make-or-break decision? The drama, the intrigue, the exotic locales.”

“I like him.” Stevie said to David, then looked beyond him to Patrick. “I like you.”

David caught Patrick smiling to himself as he watched the TV.

After a few episodes, David’s cheeks ached from grinning. Stevie asleep with her head on David’s right shoulder and Patrick’s hand in David’s left. He couldn’t remember a better night in his life. He looked over at Patrick and smiled. Patrick squeezed David’s hand, then tried to cover a yawn.

“Getting sleepy?”

“A little,” Patrick said sheepishly.

“I’ll put this one to bed.” He jerked his head gently toward Stevie. “Want to stay?”

Patrick nodded as his cheeks reddened.

“You can sleep on the couch or…”

“In your room?” Patrick said in a deeper voice.

“Yup.” His cheeks turned warm.

“I’m comfortable sleeping in your bed. I don’t think I snore, but if you do, couch is probably best.”

David tsk’d. “Of course I don’t snore.”

“I guess I’ll find out.”

David grinned. “Guess you will. Be right back.” David reluctantly let go of Patrick’s hand and tucked that arm under Stevie’s legs, then wrapped his other arm around her back. He lifted her petite body from the couch as he stood.

“The fuck are you doing, Rose.”

“Putting your sleepy ass to bed, Budd.”

“You drop me and I’ll burn your Givenchy collection.”

He hissed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She chuckled sleepily. “I like this for you.”

“Me too,” he said softly as he sat her at the edge of her bed.

“Debrief over brunch tomorrow?”

He nodded. “If he’s gone by then.”

She swatted at his hip. “Get it.”

Laughing, he closed her bedroom door behind him and returned to Patrick. “My room is this one.” He crossed the living room to the door next to the kitchen. “I’ve got a T-shirt and joggers you can wear.”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

He dug through his dresser drawer and retrieved pajamas for them both. He turned around to hand them to Patrick and found him standing close. Really close. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s waist.

David tossed the clothes on the bed and draped his arms over Patrick’s shoulders. They fit together perfectly.

Patrick leaned up and gently pressed his lips against David’s. The touch sent sparks racing through David’s veins and a jolt to his heart. He tilted his head and spread his palm at the back of Patrick’s as he deepened their kiss. David could drown in the sensation of Patrick’s lips, his strong arms, solid warmth against him. He pulled back. “That was, um.”

“Great?”

“I was going to say fantastic, but I guess ‘great’ works.”

“Looks like you’re a poet after all.” Patrick laughed as he leaned and pecked David’s lips. Because they could do that now. This man who didn’t exist in David’s world until hours before, but David couldn’t imagine what it was like without him.

“The bathroom is next to Stevie’s room. Help yourself to anything in there. I think there’s a couple of unused toothbrushes in the cabinet, and if you’re a nighttime shower guy, there’s towels in there too.”

Patrick squeezed David’s hips. “Thanks. Back in a few.”

While Patrick was gone, David quickly changed into his own pajamas and plugged his dead cellphone into his charger. Patrick returned to the room as his phone turned back on.

“That side of the bed okay?”

“Yup. I’m going to grab water, if that’s okay. Can I get you some?”

“Please.” He was so nice. Ugh!

David sat down and flipped through his the ignored notifications from the evening. A text caught his attention.

_Gabriela: Hey David, I just heard from Pat and he can’t make it to the party tonight. I guess he got back together with his ex. Sorry! Lunch next week? I’d like to talk more about this possible exhibit._

David read and reread the text several times.

“You okay?” Patrick handed David a glass of water.

“Thanks. Um, can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.” Patrick sat next to him on the bed.

“Do you know Gabriela?”

Patrick frowned. “Who’s that? Wait, you asked me that earlier before Sebastien interrupted. Is that someone you were supposed to meet?” One side of his mouth turned up. “I guess we never got around to talking about how we ended up at that party. More important things to talk about, I guess.”

David stared at him. “But you had a blue mask. Your name is Pat?”

“Patrick,” he laughed. “Why?”

David shook his head as he tried to make sense of everything. “An artist I’ve been courting for an exhibit set me up with someone. I was supposed to meet a Pat in a blue mask at the party tonight.”

Patrick’s mouth fell open. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

His mouth slowly turned into a huge smile. “That’s the best damn coincidence.”

“You’re telling me.” He started to lean in toward Patrick for a kiss. “Wait, why were you there?”

Patrick grabbed David’s phone and tossed it on the bed. “My roommate invited me, but went off to network once we got there. Then I met you.”

“Thank God for your roommate.”

“Thank God for Gabriela.”

David leaned in to kiss Patrick. Their third kiss. Third in, what David and Patrick would discover, were a lifetime of kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm over on Tumblr at [lisamc-21](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lisamc-21).


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